


Drunk Doesn't Count - The Bar With No Name: Part 1

by Orlando_Furioso



Series: Hawkfic [5]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: F/M, In Vino Veritas, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlando_Furioso/pseuds/Orlando_Furioso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An improv date just kind of happens between Clint and Kate at one of Clint's favorite hangouts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Doesn't Count - The Bar With No Name: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> The next one in the Hawkfic series (part 5). This one's long and still doesn't have an ending. It sort of got away from me in some places, but might still be considered enjoyable in others.
> 
> If you finish and feel froggy or find fault with my fiction feel free to leave comment. I've got to learn somehow, right?

>>>\--------------------->

Clint is sitting at a bar with no name having a beer when Kate finds him. 

“I thought you couldn’t get drunk in public because of your “morality clause,” or was that just an excuse to not hang out with me?”

“Calm down Lady-Katie.  I’m not drunk, not yet anyway.  And even if I were, nobody here knows who I am, and they wouldn’t care even if they did.  Here I’m just another guy; just another drunk in a bar.”

“Whatever,” Kate dismisses not really listening.  “If you didn’t want to go to a nightclub with me, you could’ve just said so,” Kate says as she turns to walk out.

“Katie, wait,” Clint follows her and stops her at the door.  “Look around you Katie.  This isn’t a nightclub.  This – and I say this with the utmost respect – is a dive bar.  There’s not a person in here that cares enough to take a photo or call a tabloid.”

“People wouldn’t notice you in a nightclub either.  You could’ve been just another guy there too and nobody would care,” Kate says before pulling away and storming out the door.

“Maybe,” Clint says after playing catch-up again, “maybe they wouldn’t have noticed me.  But they would’ve noticed you.  Kate Bishop: Celebrity Debutante.  Then they would’ve noticed the poor old schlub next to you all night.  No way that ends well.”

“So it _was_ me.  You didn’t want to be with me.”

“Katie, c’mon, you know that isn’t true.  You’re the very best thing I have in my life right now.  But I just couldn’t be me and it would’ve been disastrous for you.”

“And here is better?”

Clint scratched the back of his neck and said, “Well, it ain’t Cheers, where everybody knows your name.  But it’s a place where a drunk can be a drunk and get drunk and enjoy the company of other drunks.”  Kate still looked mildly hurt or at the very least put off.  She’s hesitant so Clint crooks out his elbow and asks, “So you wanna come back inside and have a drink with just another drunk in the bar?”

Kate ponders for a second, “I think I’m a little too overdressed to fit in at your dive bar.”  Clint’s confident smirk fades to a look of dejection until Kate adds, “But I think I’ve got something to change into in my car if you’ll wait for me?”

“Happily, Katie-Bird,” Clint beams.  Kate ducks into the back seat of her VW and Clint turns away to give her some privacy.  It’s night and it’s dark out in front of the bar, but he’s got great eyes, great night vision, and he could’ve probably seen something.  As if it mattered, but now he’s left imagining things he probably shouldn’t. Clint doesn’t want to be a creep but somehow not looking is worse.  He tries to take his mind off it by asking, “How’d you find me here anyway?” He’s looking up at the moon with his back leaning up against the passenger side.

“Are you kidding?  Your bike is out front with your bow and a quiver full of arrows,” Kate said shimmying out of or into something and it caused the car to shake slightly.  “You’re low-jacked pretty much 24/7.”

“Ah, yes,” Clint responds taking a hand from his pocket to rub his chin absently.

When Kate steps back around she’s wearing a small short sleeve black t-shirt that has something written on it that Clint can’t seem to focus on.  The shirt’s so tight it probably still wouldn’t have fit her couple of years ago.  The denim mini skirt she’s wearing also makes a definite statement.  Albeit a very brief statement.  To Clint’s credit his reaction isn’t too cartoonish.  Yeah, he seems to have gone a little slack in the jaw, but it’s not like he’s drooling and his tongue isn’t hanging out.  Yeah, he can’t seem to stop his eyes from scanning her up and down a couple times, but it’s not like they’re bugging out his head.  He’s confident that his heart isn’t visibly thumping from his chest, but he can tell his pulse has quickened more than a little.

Kate takes a minute to smile at his reaction and then asks, “Well?” when she finally tires of being sized up. “Are we going to get drinks or what, Gawk-eye?” and she takes Clint by the elbow he offered her earlier.

>>>\--------------------->

When they step back inside a waitress behind the bar calls to Clint, “Where’d you run off to loverboy?” 

 “Aw, did you miss me in the 5 whole minutes I was away?” Clint says as he retakes his seat at the bar.

“I did.  I was so lonely,” the waitress says as she rests her elbows on the bar and leans in to continue flirting with Clint. Katie notices the barmaid is either long on cleavage or short on clothing or perhaps some combination of both.  Never one to feel intimidated, she does her best not to let it show.

“It’s a curse that comes with my unfortunate charm.” Clint says and smiles coyly.

“Unh hunh.  It must be a terrible burden.” the barmaid says returning Clint’s smile.

“It really is.  String of lonely broken hearts in my wake,” Clint says still not introducing the woman he’s returned to the bar with. 

Kate’s fed up and about to take the initiative to introduce herself when the barmaid asks, “Speaking of heartbreakers, who is this gorgeous young woman on your arm?”

“Rosaline this is Kate.  Kate this is Rosaline.” Clint says finally acknowledging her existence, “Kate will be drinking on me tonight.”

“Did you leave me for another woman in the 5 minutes you were gone or are you just trying to make me jealous?” Rosaline asks already talking like Kate’s not there.

“Oh, so this is your dog?”  Kate interrupts before Clint can answer with yet another cheese-filled line, “You need to keep him on a tighter leash.  He was outside trying to hump anything that moved.”

“Ha!” Rosaline laughed and raised up away from the bar taking her cleavage with her. “Cute and funny.  Better hold on to this one loverboy.”

“I’m trying to Rosie.  Believe me.  With both hands,” Clint said and reached over to squeeze Kate by the waist.  Kate, unfortunately, squealed out loud a bit.

“So what’ll be, Kate.”  Rosaline asked.

“Have a beer girly-girl.” Clint offered.

“Actually I’m feeling a little thirsty.  Make it a beer and a shot.”

“Well all right girly-girl,” Rosaline said as she fetched the order.  Kate found herself not liking Rosaline much anyway and calling her girly-girl only added to it.  Only Clint can get away with stuff like that because, well, he’s Clint.

When Clint eyed her with a just a hint of surprise at her order Kate responded, “You’ve been here a while.  I’ve got some catching up to do.”

>>>\--------------------->

Kate wanted to fit in with what was apparently Clint’s crowd so she was polite to Rosaline while they sat at the bar.  Well, she was mostly polite.  Okay, she was polite at times and other times she was trying.  An effort **_was_** being made.  She finished her drinks and then finished a couple more and they moved from the bar to an open booth.  There was never dull moment around Clint and they got along so well that there weren’t any awkward silences.  There was always something the two of them could talk about, but she took a break from their conversation on just about everything to scan the bar and its other occupants. 

Clint was right; this was nothing like a nightclub.  No lights, lasers, or strobes.  Everything was dimly lit and dark probably to hide that fact that nothing was overly clean.  There was no DJ or house band or music playing way too loud.  No overcrowded dance floor full of barely dressed twenty-somethings grinding all over each other.  There was room enough to dance if anyone felt the urge and there was an occasional song from a jukebox that would’ve been retro just about anywhere else.  Mostly, it was quiet enough for conversation.  There were a couple of pool tables that had seen better days and a couple of dart boards that had been worked over some.  There were dark booths along the walls where one couple appeared to making out.  No, scratch that, they were definitely making out, if not more.  Overall, it felt very “Clint” and somehow that made it more comfortable to Kate. 

Then she started looking around at the people.  Taking in the other “drunks” in the bar.  It wasn’t packed to capacity, not nearly, but there were enough random scatterings that it felt a little fuller than it probably was.  Then something struck Kate about one of the other drunks, a feeling of familiarity.  Then the same feeling with another.  Finally Kate said “This may be the drinks talking, but some of these guys look sort of familiar.”

“Oh yeah?” Clint said a little too slyly over his beer.  His eyebrow crooked upward and he stopped smirking long enough to take a sip.

“Is-is this some kind secret superhero bar?”  Kate questioned quietly.

“Not quite.” Clint said somewhat smugly.

“This is a **_supervillain_** bar isn’t it?”

“Yep.  You got it.”

“Oh my God Clint!”

“Calm down Katie,” Clint said setting down his beer and motioning with his hands for Kate to sit back down.

Kate, not realizing that she was standing, retorted with, “ ** _You_** calm down.  We’re gonna get ganked here!”

“Ganked?  Look, It’s like I told you.  Nobody here knows who I am and they wouldn’t care even if they did.”

“Clint, these people are criminals.  They’re thieves and killers and-”

“Out there,” Clint said pointing to the door.  “Here,” he said pointing to the table between them, “Here they’re just people.  They drink and talk and have a good time.”

“I can’t believe this.  You took me to a supervillain bar.  Does Captain America know you come here?”

 “I took Cap here once.  Told him what I’ll tell you.  Supervillains have more fun.  It’s in their nature.  If they didn’t have fun doing what they do they’d go do something else.  They aren’t burdened by an overabundance of duty and honor.  They’re not haunted by their pasts.  A lot of them are just taking what they got and trying to get by.  Yes, it’s against the law.  So is being a vigilante and taking the law into your own hands.  It ain’t up to me to judge them.  And it ain’t up to you either.  And I’m not gonna begrudge them or anybody else a good time.”

Kate looked down and thought about it for a second.  “I guess you got a point.”

“Damn right I do,” Clint said picking up his beer.  “I figure it’s the least we could do seeing as how we’re always shootin’ ‘em full of arrows and punchin’ ‘em in the face.”

Kate laughed and began feeling comfortable again.

“And there’s another good thing,” Clint said after taking a long drink.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Fight breaks out here and you can hit anyone you want because there’s not a damn person in here that doesn’t deserve it.” Clint said grinning big and bright and Kate laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her seat.

“Does that include you, Boss-Hawk?” Kate said when she finally stopped laughing.

“Especially me, Katie-Bird,” Clint chuckled.

>>>\--------------------->

After a couple of games of pool where Clint won handily and Kate became convinced he was cheating.  That he knew some kind of “carnie magic”.  They played some very spirited, very competitive games of darts that threatened to spiral out of control.  It started with best 2 out of 3, then went to best 3 out of 5, then 4 out of 7.  They decided to call it a draw before playing best 11 out of 20.  Kate was starting to really feel the effects of the alcohol in her system so she hit the ladies room and Clint found a booth to occupy.

When Kate exits the bathroom she finds Rosaline sitting in the booth across the table from Clint.  In what Kate instantly deems her spot.  So what if they weren’t officially a couple? That was still her spot.  And the bitch was in her spot flirting with Clint like she’d been doing all night every time they ordered something to drink.  Clint was probably enjoying it, he certainly seemed to be attentive, but he was probably oblivious to it all.  Clint is flirtatious like water is wet.  It’s his factory default setting.  And the asshole gets hit on all the time and rarely seems to notice.  Kate wants to go sit next to Clint, force him to slide over and force Rosaline to fuck off.  Actually, she wants to slam the bar wench’s head into the table and if Clint has a problem she can do the same to him.  But she exhales and realizes that doing something like that would spoil what has so far actually been a pretty fantastic evening.

Kate closes her eyes.  “Probably just bounce off the table with her big fake tits.” Kate says aloud to no one, but smiles anyway.

She makes her way to the jukebox and the empty space that serves as a dance floor around it.  She searches through track listings for something, anything she can move to.  She needs a way to release some energy and anger that’s starting to build up inside her.  That’s when she recognizes something that just may work, though it takes a second for her to remember where she knows the song from.  She digs around her pocket for some change, plunks in her quarters, and selects “Black Betty” by Ram Jam.

As soon as the music starts up Clint’s ears perk up.  He knows this song he thinks, and he turns his attention away from Rosaline.  When he looks to the source he finds Kate still bent over with her hands resting on the jukebox.  She’s tapping her foot to the beat and Clint traces her legs up to that ridiculously short skirt.  Kate looks over her shoulder toward the booth with a glance that should’ve set off smoke alarms. And then she starts dancing.  Clint – through superhuman will alone – forces himself to look away.  He mentally asks himself, “What was with that look?  Was it just a look or was it **_a look_**?”

He tries to rejoin the conversation with Rosaline already in progress, but his heart’s no longer in it.  When he looks back, really just a couple of seconds later, but which felt like a half hour to Clint, Kate’s arms are raised over her head as she spins on the heels of her boots.  Her dark hair chases her wildly with each spin and her too tight t-shirt has raised up and her mid-section is even more exposed.  Clint isn’t the only one who’s noticed.  Kate’s starting to attract an audience and another drunk has made his way onto the dance floor near her.  Kate glances toward the booth again before she starts dancing next to him.  “Okay, that was **_a look_**.  She definitely looked over here,” Clint thinks.

“And, I just lost you didn’t I, loverboy?” Rosaline says.

“Excuse me Rosie,” Clint says not hearing anything and leaves making a beeline to Kate on the dance floor.

“Well played girly-girl,” Rosaline says to suddenly empty booth.

>>>\--------------------->

Clint cuts in during a guitar solo (one of several) with barely an, “Excuse me.”  The guy looks more than a little pissed but doesn’t press his luck yet.  Clint dances up behind Kate and places a hand loosely around her mid-section.  They dance to the remainder of that song a few others.

Later on, the drunk that Kate had danced with briefly comes to their booth.  “Haven’t seen you two around here before.” he says his voice tinged with a just a bit of alcohol-fueled angriness and drunken determination.

“Don’t usually come to a place like this to be seen,” Clint replies and leans back in the booth.

“You two in the business?”

“Sure.  I do a little noneya from time to time,” Clint answers.

“Noneya?”

“Noneya business,” Clint says smartly.  He may not be looking for a fight but he’s about to find one nonetheless.

“Funny man.  Is that your stage name?   Are you Funny-Man with the power to get laughed at?”

“Nah, I go by Loverboy,” Clint ad-libbed.  “I go around shooting arrows into people like Cupid,” he said as he winked at Kate.  She laughed hard and the goon got a little bit more embarrassed.

“And your daughter here, what’s she go by?”

“I thought that was obvious.” Clint remarks casually.  He points to Kate coolly and says, “She’s so rocksteady and she’s always ready.  That there, my man, is none other…than Black Betty.”

The goon looks over to Kate who’s only response is, “Bam Ba-Lam.” And then both Clint and Kate erupt in laughter together.  The goon knows when he’s being put over.  He also knows he isn’t going to get a fight when the two of them are in hysterics and so he simply walks away from the booth.

>>>\--------------------->

“What I don’t get,” Clint says wiping tears from his eyes, “is how you even know that song.”

“It was thundering around your apartment one day when I came over,” Kate says when she’s caught her breath. “It must’ve played 2 or 3 times while we were shooting together.  And at that volume it just kind of , I dunno, it stuck with me.”

“It’s a good song,” Clint says.

“It is,” Kate agrees.

“I mean it’s a good song even if you’re partially deaf,” Clint adds with a touch of unforced sullenness.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Kate says matching his sullenness before she gets quiet.  Clint’s so good about his handicap that it never really shows.  Not unless you’re looking and you know what to look for.  The way he leans in to really listen to people and way he watches their faces.  Kind of like the way he was doing with Rosaline Kate recalls and feels an iota of remorse for wanting to cause her harm.  He can be intense like that and it’s something that Kate really likes about him.  It makes sense that he would like music with a driving beat that he could feel even if he couldn’t hear it.  And that he would like to play his music loud.  Like angry teenager level of loudness.  “Sometimes I forget that you’re, you know, deaf.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.  That’s actually a pretty nice thing say.  And it’s an okay thing to forget,” Clint says and smiles warmly.

“What’s it like?” Kate asks and quickly adds, “I mean, if it’s okay to talk about.”

“Well the hearing aids work wonders, when I wear them and they work.  When they don’t it’s like things are underwater or far away.  Like people are talking in whispers.  Like maybe they’re keeping things from you.”

“Why wouldn’t you wear them?”

“Sometimes it helps to block out all the noise.” He says and waves his hand around nondescriptly even though it’s not too terribly loud right now.  “You wouldn’t believe how much sensory input is literally just white noise.  Taking that away makes you focus twice as hard on what you can see or smell or taste or touch.” Clint says and stares intently into Kate’s face.

Kate can feel her face start to heat up under his eyes.  “Maybe I should start training with earplugs.”

Clint smiles and says, “You can start now.”  Clint reaches out and cups his hands around both of her ears. Kate’s shocked at first but stops herself from pulling away.  Clint gauges the pressure he’s using and says, “This is about 50% hearing loss,” Kate can still make out Clint’s muffled words.  What she senses more is the pressure of his touch.  What she feels is every bit of the warmth of his hands and his rough fingertips in her hair resting on the back of her head.  She’s definitely blushing now but she leans toward him a little more anyway.

“Now if you were to look around, you’d have to rely on whatever things you can pick up at a glance.   You wouldn’t have sound as an early warning signal to know where someone or something was coming from.” Clint says his words dampened.  “You keep your head on a swivel in battle,” Clint said moving her head slowly from side to side and Kate eyed everything she could while frequently darting back towards Clint’s eyes and mouth, “but you keep it locked in a conversation.” Clint says bringing her head back even with his.

 “So this is what it’s like for you?” Kate asked and her own voice resonated through her and sounded louder than she intended.

“More or less.  I’ve gotten some of my hearing back now, but at my worst it was around 80% gone,” Clint replies still softened.

He started to remove his hands but she quickly placed her own hands on top of his and pressed down a little harder.  Her palms felt his busted knuckles and her fingers fell in alongside his.  Their hands together were headphones and now it was like the rest of world had faded away to practically nothing.  The volume turned down almost to mute.  Kate was staring at Clint’s face the way he always seemed to stare at hers.  She must’ve seen it or thought about him abstractly, absently a million times, but she really wanted to take in everything now.  Every feature from the stubble on his chin, to the crease of his lips, to the laugh lines at the edges of his piercing, unwavering blue eyes.

“Say something,” she said starting to feel a little self-conscious and again surprised herself a little with the depth of her own voice.

Clint had been trying to say something, or at least trying to come up with something to say.  But all he could do was feel.  He felt her hands gently, but firmly on his own.  He felt her head in his hands, and her hair under his fingertips, and her fingers, thin but calloused and powerful like his, slotted between his own.  And he felt his pulse quickening.  He could feel and he could see.  He saw his Katie between his hands not even an arm’s length away.  He looked into her eyes and saw her looking back into his.

“Katie.  You’re beautiful, and you’re perfect, and I don’t ever want to lose you.  Please God don’t let me mess this up.” Clint confessed softly.

Kate wrinkles her brow and studies his face for a few more long moments.  “Wow, I’m not sure I got any of that.” She said. “You must’ve gotten really good at reading lips.” 

Kate slowly removes his hands from her head and lets the noise of the bar seep back into her head.  His hands no longer frame her face but she’s not ready to let go of them yet.  So they sit holding hands across the table.

“Ahem, yeah,” Clint clears his throat.  “I started learning right after it happened.”  He feels the urge to pull his hand away and rub the back of his neck but Kate still has a hold of him.  She has started sweeping her thumbs across the back of his fingers.  “I learned to read lips and how to sign,” Clint recalls and starts to smile as if he’s remembering something fondly.  “Bobbi and me, well, she used to make me practice every night.  I’d complain, of course, about being handicapped, or about relying on technology, or about the lessons.  And she’d put up with my whining and find a way to make me do it anyway ( ~~usually by withholding sex~~ ).  Told me that the day was going to come where Clint Barton would be grateful he could still be Hawkeye without his hawk ears.” Clint smiles and then flinches a little. “Ah, but you don’t want to hear me go on about ancient history.”

“Oh I don’t mind.  You can keep going if you want.”  Kate says enjoying Clint and his history, “I mean, as long you’re not gonna get all mopey about it.  I like Bobbi.  She’s pure kickass.  And I know you two have a past.  Hell, the whole freaking world knows Hawkeye and Mockingbird were married.  Billy and Teddy talk about it like it was a romance for the ages.  But I also know you two are divorced and have been for, really, longer than either of you have been alive.”

“Hmph,” Clint says but doesn’t follow it up right away.

Which prompts Kate to ask, “What is it?”

“Nothing.  Just something Bobbi said about you.  The two of you are alike in a lot of ways.”

“That may be one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever heard.” Kate says with emotion in her voice that comes out over the smugness.

“Better than being called Hawkeye by Captain America?” Clint asks with his head cocked to one side a bit.

“Way, way better,” Kate answers full of mockery and sarcasm.

“Aw, that hurts, Katie-Bird.” Clint reacts with artificial pain.  “Maybe you should be spending your nights hanging out with her instead of me,” He says with a grin but has to pull his hands free, just to punctuate his joke.

“But then who would take me to a bar full of deadly drunks?” Kate responds.

>>>\--------------------->

It’s getting late (early?) and the bar is nearly empty but neither Hawkeye seems to want the evening to end.  They decide one more drink.  One more dance.  All right so it’s three plays for a dollar so they get three more dances.  They agree to split two songs and come to a compromise on the third.  Clint wants to play some rock power ballad like Poison’s “Every Rose has its Thorns” or  Lynyrd Skynyrd’s, “Simple Man” which amuses Kate and makes her smile as wide as she can without showing teeth.  Clint Barton and his ever present man-pain.  She opts to try and talk him out of it on feminist principles and not wanting to end the night on a downer.  Clint relents and tells Kate that she’s spoiled.  To which she agrees to without a struggle.

Kate finds herself a little torn because as much as she’d like to slow dance with Clint, she kind of wants to see him shake his ass again.  She’s also tempted to take his money and punch in Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl” just so she can see the reaction on Clint’s face.  She thinks better of it because, whether it’s true or not, it might send the wrong message if she ended the best unexpected, unintentional date she’d ever had by laughing in Clint’s face. 

Kate taps her fingernails to her teeth while she tries to decide her song and what she can convince Clint is “their” song.  She comes to the conclusion that she may have seen Dirty Dancing too many times because she really wants to play Bill Medley’s “Time of my Life,” but as good as Clint moves, he’s no Patrick Swayze.  And if you can’t dance with Patrick Swayze to “Time of my Life” then, really, what’s the point?  Dirty Dancing is also the reason she’s considering cha-cha-ing with Clint to Mickey and Sylvia’s “Love is Strange” which has the added benefit of messing with the barmaid.  She’s a little surprised that this relic has either of the songs and she takes it as a sign.  “Sold,” Kate thinks.

When Kate’s song starts up the sounds coming from the jukebox feel a little out of place in this particular bar.  They get a couple of looks from the few remaining patrons – the few remaining drunks –, but the looks don’t last too long and soon they’re too swept up in the dancing to care.  Clint must’ve seen Dirty Dancing too (Swayze movie - Swayze always gets a pass) because even though he looks down and shakes his head he’s grinning as he plays his part as Mickey and mouths, “Sylvia?” and Kate and smiles broadly and calls her loverboy and they laugh like idiots.

Kate was a little surprised when Clint decided that if he couldn’t have his angsty ballad then he wanted The Sonics “Have Love, Will Travel.”  But she finds that as they twist to it that the song, particularly the lyrics, is about as “Clint” as everything else has been this evening.

The last song they decided on was Prince’s “Purple Rain” and as hot and as fun as it was to see Clint move, it turns out that Kate really only wanted to be next to him swaying back and forth.  Clint to his credit kept his heartbeat under control as he held Kate to his chest.  Their arms hung around each other and kept the rest of the world and the rest of the night at bay.  Time would tell if this actually became “their” song, but for now it was just about perfect.

>>>\--------------------->

**Author's Note:**

> Clint Barton is essentially Dean Winchester in parts of this. Which makes Kate Bishop, I don't know, Jo Harvelle I guess. If that doesn't make sense to you, you should watch Supernatural. Really, everybody should. Ideally, everybody already is. If that doesn't make sense to you and you do watch Supernatural comment about how dumb I sounded just now. 
> 
> Thanks to everybody for playing along.


End file.
